


Finding The Altar

by profdanglais



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profdanglais/pseuds/profdanglais
Summary: The only person Killian Jones loves more than his best mate David Nolan is David's sister Emma Swan. He knows he can never act on his feelings... but what happens when she acts on hers?





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly stole this idea from a prompt on Tumblr that someone sent to @let-it-raines. Never fear, she is writing it too. I can't wait to see her take, it's bound to be completely different from mine. Variety, spice of life, etc.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Emma, would you get that please?”

“Ugh, David, my hands are sticky…”

“Just get the door! It’s only Killian, he won’t mind your hands.”

_Gods, if only…_

Licking the melted Milk Duds off her fingers, she opened the door and smiled at the man on the other side of it, ignoring the familiar wild pattering of her heart against her ribs at the sight of him and his blue eyes and his ear-to-ear dimpled grin that made dirty promises she just knew he’d be able to keep. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Milk Duds in the popcorn again, Swan?” he drawled, “Glad to see you taking such assiduous care of your… oral health.”

She licked a bit of melted chocolate off her thumb, keeping her eyes on his. “My oral health is just fine, thank you very much.”

“I don’t doubt it, love,” he smirked, following her into the house. “Oi, Dave, you ready mate?”

“Just a damn minute,” her brother shouted from his bedroom.

Killian joined Emma on the sofa, slouching down next to her in that boneless way he had and helping himself to her bowl of Milk Dud laden popcorn. “This is truly revolting, Swan,” he declared around an enormous mouthful. “I don’t know why you insist on ruining perfectly good popcorn in this abominable manner.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed the sticky popcorn, licking his fingers as she had done. She tried not to think about those fingers tracing fiery trails along her skin, of how they would feel in her hair, on her breasts, between her legs. She failed, utterly, as always.

“What the devil are you watching?” asked Killian, his eyes trained on the television, oblivious as ever to her reaction to him, to the uncomfortable feelings his proximity aroused in her. She dragged her eyes away from his face and back to the screen.

“It’s just a Christmas movie on Netflix.”

“It’s appalling.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. I love it, I’ve seen it twice already.”

“What, twice this year? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

“It’s November, that’s Christmas movie season.”

He shook his head, his mouth quirking into a fond grin. “Emma Swan, I would never have pegged you as an aficionado of sappy Christmas drivel.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

He turned to look at her. “And just what is there to discover about you, Swan?”

He sounded friendly and casual, but she couldn’t help the coy note in her voice as she leaned closer to him and replied. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She could never help flirting with him even though she knew it was futile.

“Perhaps I would.” His voice had deepened, the low rumbling sound sending shivers over her skin. His eyes dropped to her lips and her breath caught.

The sound of David’s bedroom door closing sent them leaping apart, Killian scrambling awkwardly to his feet and running his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more than usual. Emma leaned back against the cushions, trying to calm her breathing.

“Well, let’s get going, then Jones, if you’re in such a hurry,” said David heartily, clapping Killian on the back.

“Aye, mate, ready when you are.”

“You sure you don’t want to come along, Emma?”

“Hell no, I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week. You two get out of here, have fun.” She risked a glance at them. David was smiling warmly and Killian smirked, avoiding her eyes.

“Well, if you’re sure,” said her brother. “We’ll be off.”

The front door closed behind them, and Emma let out a deep sigh, cursing herself and her stupid body and her stupid heart. Of all the people in the world, all the men who had put moves on her over the years, she had to go lusting after, she had to go _falling in love with_ the only one she could never have. Her brother’s best friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian’s heart was still racing long after he and David had arrived at the bar. Seeing Emma always had that effect on him, making his mouth go dry and his palms damp, his fingers itching to touch her, to stroke her soft skin and that bloody golden hair that haunted his dreams. _Why_ did she have to be David’s sister, he thought, for the millionth time. The perfect woman, forever out of reach because his best mate would murder him for laying so much as a finger on her.

He scowled into his rum. Who had come up with this stupid rule anyway, he wondered, the one that said a man wasn’t allowed to date his mate’s sister? He’d seen the blokes Emma dated, had seen far too many for his liking during the year she’d been back in Storybrooke living with her brother. His scowl deepened, a muscle dancing in his jaw as his gut twisted with jealousy as images of all the men Emma had gone out with since he’d known her danced through his mind. Surely he must be preferable to that collection of wankers and chancers, _surely?_ Surely David must want to see his sister with someone who appreciated her wit and intelligence, her strength and kindness as much as he appreciated her beauty? Someone who loved her…

Someone like Killian, whose heart had been wholly Emma’s from the first moment she’d smiled at him, sunshine glinting through her hair and challenge in her eyes.

He downed his rum in one gulp and signalled for another. He was only at the bloody bar to be David’s wingman as he pursued the pretty brunette who worked as a waitress there. The pretty brunette who was currently laughing, looking at David like he’d hung the moon, and all the stars as well. The man was clearly doing just fine on his own.

If he’d known he’d be stuck as the third wheel, Killian would have stayed in with Emma, watching sickly Christmas films and eating sicklier popcorn.

Gods, that sounded like heaven.

Heaven was probably more obtainable.

He may as well get drunk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“All right, all right,” snarled Emma, rubbing her eyes as she stumbled to the door, still half asleep. “I’m coming, I’m co—” She opened the door and her mouth fell open. “Killian! Where— where’s David?”

“Gone home with the lovely brunette. Her home that is. Obviously. This is his home, and he is not here.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I am indeed. Might need to sleep with you, er, that is, crash here. If I might. Can’t drive home, you see.” The tips of his ears were pink, but his eyes, when they met hers, were hot and wanting, and suddenly her heart was in her throat. She’d had so many dreams of him looking at her like that, like he wanted to devour her.

None of her dreams had involved him being falling down drunk.

“Um, sure, take— take David’s room. He won’t mind, if he’s not coming home. You know where it is.”

He nodded and took a step forward, stumbling as the room began to spin around him.

Emma caught him before he could fall. Her arms closed around him, and for a moment he allowed himself to sink into her embrace, holding her close and burying his face in her hair.

 _Gods, she’s strong. And soft. And…_ “So beautiful,” he whispered. “Emma. So bloody beautiful. I want… I want...”

She was sure her head was spinning as much as his must be, the feel of him pressed against her, warm and solid and smelling impossibly delicious, made her dizzy with yearning. She looked up at him, knowing she shouldn’t ask but unable to stop the words. “What do you want, Killian?”

He wanted to kiss her, to strip her bare and kiss every inch of her. He wanted to find all her sensitive spots, everything that turned her on, and pleasure her for hours. He wanted to hear her scream his name as she came under his mouth and around his cock. More than anything he wanted to _tell her what he wanted_ , to tell her he loved her, to hear her say she loved him.

Sometimes he thought he’d give anything to hear that.

But he couldn’t do any of those things. He _bloody couldn’t_.

She was David’s sister, and she was off limits. Forever.

Gathering every ounce of willpower he possessed, he pushed her away. “I want a piss,” he said, his words deliberately crude, “and a bed. Preferably in that order.”

He smirked at her, as lewdly as he could manage, ignoring the broken look on her face and the way it broke his heart. “It’s all right, Swan, as you said I know the way. Thanks for letting me crash, love.” He managed to walk almost steadily to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and leaning against it, barely suppressing the urge to bang his head against the wood.

The sound of Emma’s bedroom door shutting made him breathe a sigh of relief. Quickly, he used the toilet and washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face, then stumbled across the hall to David’s room, managing to trade his jeans for a pair of David’s sweatpants before falling into bed and passing out.

All his dreams were of Emma.

~~~~~~~~~

Emma awoke the next morning and regretted it instantly, wishing she could just curl up in her bed and sleep forever. She felt angry and ashamed and sad, and she hoped like hell that Killian wouldn’t remember the night before. Then she could pretend it hadn’t happened, and go on with her life just as if she didn’t know how it felt to have him plastered against her.

How it felt to tentatively test the waters with him and be soundly rejected.

Wearily, she trudged into the kitchen to make coffee. She was just pouring her first cup when David’s door opened, and she heard Killian come into the kitchen.

“Swan?” he ventured, his voice hesitant. “Do I— do I have anything I need to apologise for?”

She didn’t turn around. “Like what?”

“Hmmm, well my memories of early this morning are rather hazy, but I feel somehow as though I owe you an apology. Whatever appalling things I did or said to you whilst in my cups, I hope you can forgive me.”

“You didn’t do anything, Killian.”

His sigh of relief was audible. “I’m glad to hear it. I don’t usually drink like that anymore. I was feeling… rather stressed last night.”

“Oh? Woman problems?”

“Er, yes, actually.”

 _Well,_ thought Emma, _that hurts._

Forcing her voice past the lump in her throat, she made an attempt to tease him. “Really? The great Killian Jones is having problems with his love life? You finally meet a woman you couldn’t talk into bed?”

“Aye, something like that.” His voice was genuinely forlorn, and she felt bad for mocking him. It wasn’t his fault she was bitterly jealous of all the women he’d known. Even though she knew they meant nothing to him, at least they got to touch him.

She finally turned to look at him and immediately wished she hadn’t, the cup of coffee she’d made for him nearly slipping from her grasp.

 _That’s just not fair. No one should look that good hung over_.

His eyes were shadowed and his hair a mess, the extra-long stubble on his chin giving him a darker edge than usual. He wore nothing but a pair of David’s sweatpants, sitting dangerously low on his hips, the chest hair she’d only ever seen peeking out from under his shirts finally on full display, trailing down his abs and towards--  _dammit, no, don’t think about that!_ He smiled tentatively, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing as he took the cup from her, and she just wanted to lick him everywhere. Quickly, she turned away before the temptation grew overwhelming. “You want some breakfast?”

“Aye, love, if it’s not too much trouble. That would be lovely.”

_What would be lovely is if you’d stop being so fucking gorgeous for just a second so that I could breathe._

“Sit down, then. You like scrambled eggs, right?”

“I do indeed.” He sat down on a stool at the kitchen island, holding his coffee mug in both hands, closing his eyes and humming a little as he inhaled the steam. She couldn’t suppress a grin as she cracked eggs into a bowl, even as her heart lurched yet again. Sometimes he was so adorable she could almost forget that he was also blistering hot.

Almost.

The coffee and eggs seemed to revive Killian, and by the time he was helping her load the dishwasher he seemed almost back to his usual self.

“Well, Swan, thank you for breakfast. I’ll just go put my clothes back on and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He turned to go, and everything in Emma screamed in protest. It had been so nice, having him to herself for once, without David or any of their other friends around. She didn’t want it to end.

“Killian!” The words were falling from her lips before she could censor them. “Would you want to maybe… stay?”

He froze, then turned to look at her, an odd expression on his face. “Stay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t have any plans for today and there are loads more terrible Christmas movies on Netflix, and I just, you know, wondered if maybe you’d like to watch one with me. Since you seemed so interested in the last one.”

He was silent for a beat too long, and she flushed pink and scrambled to cover herself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, you probably have plans—”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t have plans. And yes, I’d love to watch a terrible Christmas film with you.”

She couldn’t stop a delighted grin from breaking across her face, but turned away, not wanting him to see how pleased she was.

If she’d looked at his face, she’d have seen that his grin was no less delighted.

~~~~~~~~~~~

And that is how Killian found himself snuggled under a blanket with the woman he loved, their bare shoulders inches apart, their feet up on the coffee table, watching an impossibly perky woman fall in love with a deeply unconvincing prince at Christmastime.

He had never been happier.

“Tell me love, why is it that these minuscule, obscure European kingdoms have such strict rules about marriage and succession? Even the British royal family isn’t so strict these days.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a story if the prince could marry whoever he liked.”

“It’s not much of a story when he can’t. I feel certain that soon someone will have an epiphany, something to the effect that love is more important than stuffy old rules and the perky American will be welcomed into the royal family after all, and everyone will live happily ever after. Am I right?”

“So is your problem the fact that the movie is predictable or that it’s unrealistic?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe predictable and unrealistic is a comforting thing in a made-for-TV Christmas movie? No one ever said it was fine art, but you have to admit it’s soothing.”

He considered this for a moment. “Aye, I suppose it is.”

“That’s why I like movies like this. They relax me. Of course I know they’re silly, but I don’t care. That’s not the point. I have a stressful job, and watching them makes me feel good. I like to pretend this sort of thing could be real, just for a little bit.”

“What do you mean, ‘this sort of thing’? Fairy tales? Or love?”

“Both, I guess.” She repeated his words. 

“Don’t you believe in love, Swan?”

She shrugged. “I’d like to, but I haven’t seen much of it.”

“Don’t be absurd, David adores you.”

“He’s my brother, it is _not_ the same thing. I haven’t exactly met many contenders for Prince Charming.”

“Perhaps you’re looking at the wrong men.”

“Who else would I look at?”

_Me. Look at me. I love you._

He turned to find her doing just that, an unreadable expression on her face. She was so close, and he couldn’t help his eyes from fixing on her lips, couldn’t stop himself imagining what it would feel like to kiss her. For the millionth time he cursed David’s overprotective streak and the idiotic social conventions that declared he wasn’t allowed to touch his friend’s sister, even when he was certain she was the only woman he would ever love.

With a herculean effort, he dragged his eyes away from her mouth, was returning his attention to the screen when her hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to face her again.

Her eyes were hot, filled with the same desire that raged through him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Killian,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.

 

 

_ Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. _

                           --Alexander Pope


	2. The Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a wonderful response there's been to this story! You're all lovely and delightful and thank you for reading xxx

_Six months later_

David and Killian were sitting at the kitchen island sharing a beer when Emma came home. She tensed as she entered the room, carefully looking anywhere but at Killian, her body language closed and defensive.

“Hey,” David greeted her. “Final patrol go okay?”

Killian’s shoulders were tight, his mouth in a grim line. He kept his eyes fixed on his beer bottle.

“Yeah, nothing major,” Emma replied. “Leroy was outside the library shouting about something, I didn’t really listen, just threatened him with a night in the cells unless he shut up.”

“Standard Friday night in Storybrooke then,” chuckled David. “Beer, Emma?”

She shook her head, giving him a tight smile. “No thanks, I’m gonna go have a shower and find something to watch on TV. What are you up to tonight?”

“I’m meeting Mary Margaret at the bar then we’re going to have a late dinner. I probably won’t be home. You have any plans, Killian?”

Killian looked up, giving his friend a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just a quiet night in for me, mate. I’ve got a new book.”

“Sure you don’t want to come to the bar?”

“And watch you and Mary Margaret make goo-goo eyes at each other all evening? I think I’ll pass.”

“We don’t make goo-goo eyes!” David was indignant.

Emma and Killian looked at each other for the first time, their gazes meeting only briefly before darting away again, but they were united in their condemnation of David and Mary Margaret’s goo-goo eyes. “Yes, you do,” they said in unison.

“Well, I’m just not going to sit here and take this kind of abuse any longer,” declared David. “I’m off.”

Killian drained his beer bottle in one gulp. “I’ll walk out with you,” he said. David paused to kiss the top of Emma’s head while Killian gave her a wide berth, preceding David out of the room and not looking back.

Emma drew a deep breath, finally relaxing, shrugging the tension from her shoulders.

The front door shut behind the two men with a resounding bang.

Precisely three minutes later, Emma opened it again and launched herself into Killian’s waiting arms. He caught her tightly to him, sighing into her hair until she grabbed his head and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him ardently, whimpering as he nudged her lips apart and met her tongue with his. He walked her back up against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him, then twined his fingers into her hair as they kissed like they were drowning and needed the other for air.

It was ten days since they’d last been alone together.

Emma wrenched her lips from his and trailed them down his neck, nipping at his pulse point, her hands working frantically at the fastenings of his jeans.

“I missed you,” she panted. “I need you. Oh, please touch me.”

With a low growl Killian tore her blouse from her body and closed his mouth over her pebbled nipple, sucking it hard through the lace of her bra as he thrust his hand between her legs and caressed her roughly over her jeans. She moaned, bucking her hips against the heel of his hand, pulling his cock free and closing her fist around it, pumping him roughly. He groaned around her nipple, the vibrations humming across her skin and sending moisture gushing from her core, soaking through her jeans and onto Killian’s fingers.

“Fuck, Emma,” he moaned, “I need you so much, I need to be inside you.”

“Gods, yes,” she whimpered, pushing him away to wrestle off her jeans, wishing she’d thought to wear a skirt. He stripped off his t-shirt then unhooked her bra and yanked it off as she kicked her jeans away. Pulling her back to him he hoisted her up against the wall, bringing the head of his cock to her entrance as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her hips forward to meet him as he thrust inside her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and he gripped her hips with bruising force as the pure pleasure of being joined washed over them.

“Gods, I love you,” he gasped. “We can never be apart this long again.”

“Never again,” she vowed, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes as he began to move within her, rocking their hips together slowly at first then faster as they found their rhythm, until he was bottoming out with each thrust, slamming her ass hard against the wall.

They tried to make it last, fighting their release as long as they could, but they were too desperate and it had been too long. Emma’s breath began to come in short, ragged gasps and Killian, knowing she was close, ground his pelvis against her clit until she came with a choked moan, tightening her inner walls around him and dragging him over the edge alongside her. He leaned his forehead against hers as they caught their breath, and she brought her hand up to stroke his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He kissed her softly. “And I you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him as he carried her to her bedroom, where he made her come twice more under his mouth and fingers before finally sinking into her again and making love to her slowly, whispering in her ear how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much he loved her.

After, they lay twined around each other, revelling in the comfort of their embrace and chatting aimlessly.

“So are we going to this dinner Mary Margaret is planning?” asked Emma.

“I don’t see how we can get out of it. David says it’s their ‘official come-out as a couple’ so they’re unlikely to accept excuses.”

“I’m so jealous of them,” said Emma, after a moment’s silence. “I know it’s wrong to be, but I am. I want to go out to dinner and make goo-goo eyes at you, grab your ass in public and have people tell us to get a room. I’m so sick of hiding.”

“Aye, me too. But unless you can think of a way to tell your brother about us that won’t result in a gruesome double homicide, we’re well and truly stuck.”

“Um, gruesome _single_ homicide, I think you mean. David would never kill _me_.”

“Cheers, love, that’s reassuring.”

She snuggled closer to him, kissing the curve between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll think of something.”

 

When Killian met David twelve years earlier, he’d been a painfully young, wide-eyed lieutenant on his first tour in the Royal Navy, on his first leave, his first time in America. He was out one night in Boston, where David was an equally young beat cop, entering a crowded bar when they’d run into each other. Literally.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” barked David, shoving Killian’s shoulder with his.

“Take it easy, mate, it was an accident!”

“I am not your ‘mate.’”

“Bloody Americans,” sighed Killian. “It’s just a figure of speech. What should I call you? _‘Dude?_ ’”

Some of the belligerence faded from David’s expression and he almost smiled. “Not with that accent, it sounds _so_ wrong.”

“Like when you try to say ‘mate,’ mate.”

Before David could reply, their attention was caught by a voice from behind them, that of a young woman, rising in desperation and panic.

“No, I said— let me go! Ow, what are you doing?”

“C’mon honey, I saw you looking at me—” slurred the very intoxicated man with his arm slung around her shoulder, hand cupping her breast, his face uncomfortably close to hers.

“I wasn’t!”

“Just let me buy you a drink—”

“I said no!”

The rest of the bar patrons were either ignoring the scene completely or observing it with amusement.

Killian and David exchanged a glance, then moved in.

“The lady’s not interested, mate,” said Killian, looming over the man’s right side.

“She told you to leave her alone,” said David, coming up on his left.

“Fuck off,” slurred the man, not looking up.

“Are you really telling an officer of the law to fuck off? You must be even more stupid than you look,” taunted Killian.

“And that would make you _really_ stupid,” added David. 

The man finally looked at them, blanching a bit as he took in the significance of their uniforms, but his belligerence was undiminished. “I’m not doing anything wrong, bitch was asking for it.”

Killian’s expression darkened. “I think you’ll find that women are never ‘asking for it’,” he snarled. 

“Especially not from assholes like you,” growled David.

The man tried to stand up, teetered on his heels, then fell back down again, missing his chair and landing hard on his ass.

Killian stepped over him, letting the heel of his shoe dig into the man’s side as he offered the woman his arm. “Milady, allow me to escort you to a taxi. If you’re ready to leave, that is.”

She nodded gratefully. “So ready.”

David hailed the cab and Killian opened the door for the woman. She gripped Killian’s arm before getting in. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Our pleasure, love,” he replied, kissing her hand and closing the door behind her before turning to grin at David. “Buy you a drink, mate?”

David had grinned back. “Love one. Maybe from a different bar, though.”

They had been friends ever since.

Over the years they’d kept in touch via phone and email, text and even letters when Killian was off in some remote corner of the world. When Liam died David had been Killian’s rock, flying to England without being asked to stand beside Killian at his brother’s funeral, his steady, silent support more valuable than words, and the only thing that stopped Killian from drinking himself to death in his despair was the knowledge of how him dying would hurt David. He literally owed David his life, and had done his best to repay a small fraction of that debt a year later when David’s mother passed; though he hadn’t made it to Storybrooke in time for the funeral he’d been there in the difficult weeks that followed as David struggled to adjust to his new reality.

After his mother’s death David had moved back to his hometown and taken the job as Sheriff there, and Killian, after some consideration, had decided to join him. He’d been more than ready for a change; the navy felt empty without Liam and there was nothing left for him in England. At David’s insistence he’d moved into the Nolan family home, staying there nearly a year before finally getting himself fully settled and into his own place, despite some nagging concerns that his friendship with David might not survive cohabitation. They were very different men, and the small annoyances of domestic life were a breeding ground for conflict. However his worries proved unfounded, and in fact the proximity had only strengthened their bond.

David’s brother and father had been killed by a drunk driver and his mother by heart disease, while Killian had lost his father to abandonment, his mother to cancer, and his brother to the navy’s hubris. They knew they could never replace everything the other had lost, but they loved each other as brothers, saw each other as family.

Until two years ago, Killian would have sworn that there was nothing in this world or the next that could ever make him betray David Nolan’s trust.

Then he’d met Emma.

Somehow they had managed to miss meeting each other throughout the ten years he’d known David. Either she’d been busy hunting down her skips or he’d been deployed to some far-off land, but when Killian moved out of David’s place and into his own David had finally managed to talk Emma into coming home and accepting the deputy job he’d been holding for her since he became Sheriff.

Killian would never forget the first time he’d seen her, standing silhouetted in the sunshine of David’s living room window, the way her eyes had widened when she saw him and then sparked with interest, the way she’d smiled at him. The way his world had shifted around her and he’d known instantly that the path of his life had been altered forever.

At first, Killian had tried to dismiss his feelings, convince himself that it was merely physical, a simple attraction to a beautiful woman that would fade with time. Instead it had grown steadily stronger the better he’d come to know her, consuming him, refusing to be suppressed or denied until he’d had no choice but to acknowledge that the only person in the world he loved more than David was David’s sister.

That had not been an easy thing to admit.

When David had introduced Killian and Emma, he’d expected Killian to see her as he did, thought she’d be a surrogate sister for his surrogate brother. In his mind Emma was still and forever the sullen and distrustful fourteen year old his mother had adopted, desperately trying to hide her vulnerability behind thick defensive walls, desperately in need of David and Ruth’s protection and love. But Killian had never met that girl, only the woman she had become. Emma was everything Killian had ever wanted in a woman, confident and determined, strong and independent, yet David still felt the need to protect her, to fight for her against anyone who would try to harm her.

Killian would die before he allowed any harm to come to Emma, but he doubted David would see things that way.

He hated lying to his friend, hated doing something that would hurt him so badly if he knew, but he couldn’t give Emma up and had no idea how to make David understand or even to broach the subject with him.

“By the way, mate, I’m fucking your sister,” didn’t seem like the best approach.

And anyway it wasn’t accurate. This wasn’t just sex, wasn’t a quick fling that would soon burn out. He and Emma were in love, they wanted to spend their lives together. If they were anyone else, David would be happy, happy that his friend had found love and that his sister had. If only they hadn’t found it with each other.

Killian sometimes wondered if he should have tried harder to resist when Emma had kissed him all those months ago. Truthfully, he’d barely tried at all. One touch of her lips on his and he’d been gone, kissing her back with all the frustrated longing he’d kept such a tight rein on for more than a year, losing himself in the warmth of her body and her whispered confessions of love in his ear. In fairness to himself, he had been desperately in love with her, and discovering she felt the same, making love to her for the first time, had been so all-consuming that David had been the furthest thing from his mind. It hadn’t been until later, when Emma was curled up sound asleep against his chest that he’d fully realised what he had done.

In his darker moments, he wondered what sins he could possibly have committed that would bring this punishment down upon him, this agonising choice between betraying his dearest friend or denying his only love. 

 

But this was not one of those moments. With Emma sighing contentedly in his arms, her light and love surrounding him, Killian was truly happy. She was right, he decided. They’d figure something out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma knocked on Mary Margaret’s door, then tugged at the neckline of her tight red dress. She hadn’t worn this dress in ages, not since she’d quit bail bonds, and she realised she’d grown used to the jeans and comfy tops she wore as David’s deputy. Still, the discomfort of the dress would be more than worth it for Killian’s reaction. 

It was mean to tease him, she knew, when he wouldn’t be able to do anything with David watching, but she fully intended to make it up to him later that evening. David was sure to stay at Mary Margaret’s, leaving her and Killian the whole night together plus most of the next day. They had plans to go out on his boat, and she could hardly wait. The boat afforded them guaranteed privacy and solitude, just her and Killian and the sea. Emma _loved_ it.

Mary Margaret answered the door wearing a wide smile and a considerably more demure dress than Emma’s.

“Emma!” she squealed, pulling the other woman into a hug. Emma considered it a win that she didn’t immediately flinch away. Between Ruth and David and now Killian her walls had been almost completely levelled, but she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with casual affection from people she didn’t know well. 

“Come right in,” said Mary Margaret. “Everyone else is here already. Can I get you a drink? Beer? Wine?”

“Um, a beer would be great, thanks.”

“Sure, I’ll get it in a minute, just let me introduce you first.”

“Introduce me?”

“David and Killian you know, of course,” said Mary Margaret, leading Emma into her living room. “And this is my friend Graham.”

She stood back, smiling expectantly, as a man got up from an armchair to her left and held out his hand to Emma. “Hello,” he said, giving her a friendly smile. He was good looking, she noted, with his square jaw and kind eyes. She might have been interested before she’d met Killian, but now he did nothing for her.

“Er, hi,” Emma replied, taking his hand. What else could she do?

Mary Margaret barely restrained herself from clapping her hands in glee. “Emma, why don’t you sit here and tell Graham about yourself. He’s just moved to Storybrooke, and he needs a friend. I’ll go get you that beer.”

Graham was looking apologetic. “Subtle as a sledgehammer, isn’t she?” he asked.

“And with the same amount of finesse,” Emma agreed.

“Look, I didn’t mean— I mean, I didn’t know that she was—” he stuttered.

“It’s okay,” said Emma, “I don’t blame you.”

His smile grew more natural, his eyes warming as he looked her over. “Still, I _am_ new in town and I _could_ use a friend. Maybe we could get coffee sometime?”

“Um…” for the life of her, Emma couldn’t come up with a single good reason why not. “Maybe, I’ll have to see if I’m free. My working hours can be kind of crazy.”

“Oh, I’m sure your boss would let you have some time to grab a coffee with a new resident,” David piped up from across the room. “Storybrooke is a friendly community after all.”

_Fucking hell, et tu, David?_

Emma risked a glance at Killian. His mouth was curved upwards, but his eyes were flashing fury, his whole body tense and his knuckles white as he gripped his beer. She caught his gaze, her eyes begging for understanding, and he gave her a tiny, stiff nod.

They really had no choice.

“Sure, Graham, I’d love to have coffee sometime,” said Emma, forcing a smile to her face.

 

Dinner was excruciating. Mary Margaret pointedly sat Emma next to Graham —they were the only people sharing a side of the small table— with David to her right and Killian across from them. Emma tried not to look at him, tried to keep her attention on Graham, but she could feel his seething frustration and jealousy, and all she wanted was to drag him away, wrap him tightly in her arms and reassure him that she loved him and that somehow it would all be okay.

Though if she was honest, she was having some doubts about that, especially now David was apparently aiding and abetting Mary Margaret in trying to set her up on a date. What _would_ he do when he found out about her and Killian?

“You all right, Killian?” asked David, shooting his friend a concerned look.

Killian turned his mouth up at the corners again, and Emma wondered how anyone could mistake that awful expression for a smile. “Aye, I’m fine,” he said. “Just a bit preoccupied. Work.”

“What is it you do?” asked Graham.

“I’m a novelist.”

“Really? Have you been published?” The question was perfectly civil, but Emma could see Killian’s hackles rise.

“I have,” he replied coolly. “Twice.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Killian Jones,” said the owner of that name, through clenched teeth.

“Is that the name you publish under? I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”

“You should look him up,” said Emma, jumping in before her boyfriend committed bloody murder across the dinner table. “Killian’s books are beautiful. He’s incredibly talented.” She smiled at Killian and he relaxed, managing a smile of his own that for the first time that evening didn’t look like a grimace. “This latest one is going to be the best yet,” Emma continued. “It’s next thing to poetry.”

“How have you seen the latest book?” asked David, in a voice laced with curiosity but thankfully no suspicion. “He won’t even let me see it.”

“Oh!” Emma scrambled to think of an explanation that didn’t involve Killian reading her his latest chapter as she sucked his cock, barely managing to finish it before he came hard into her mouth, the beauty of his voice and his words so intense that the lightest stroke of her fingertip on her clit had brought her to completion as well.

From the look on his face, he was also remembering that night. She felt her nipples tightening and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, trying to get some friction without being obvious about it.

“She came on me unawares,” said Killian, his voice rough, and she barely suppressed a groan at his choice of words. “I was writing at Granny’s one afternoon when she came in. I was struggling with a passage and needed an ear, and she was kind enough to offer one. Moment of weakness, mate,” he smiled at David. “You’ll still be the first to read the finished product.”

David smiled back, and Emma smiled in relief as the dangerous tension receded. Graham smiled because everyone else was, and no one noticed the speculative gleam in Mary Margaret’s eyes as they flitted back and forth between Emma and Killian.

They managed to make it through the rest of the meal with no outbreaks of violence, though the banked anger rekindled in Killian’s eyes when they were preparing to leave, as Graham saved Emma’s number in his phone and promised to call her soon to arrange their coffee date.

They drove separately to Killian’s house, as they had planned. He lived near the docks, making his place a more convenient starting point for their boat excursion the next day. Emma parked in a quiet street several blocks away and when she arrived at his house she found Killian sitting in the dark in his living room, staring moodily into a glass of rum.

She kicked off her shoes and knelt at his fireplace, lighting the kindling under the wood he'd left in it that morning.

“You don’t have to do that, love,” he said.

“I want a fire,” she replied. When it was burning brightly, she went to sit next to him, laying her head in his lap.

“I’m sorry.”

He stroked her hair. “For what?”

“For tonight. For Graham.”

“That wasn’t your fault, darling.”

“I hated seeing you so upset.”

“I know, but I’m not upset with you, Emma, I’m upset with the situation. I’m bloody furious at the situation, this _fucking_ situation that forces me to watch my girlfriend get set up with another man and not be able to do _anything_ about it.”

“I know, baby,” she soothed. “I hate it too.”

“It’s got to stop,” said Killian. “We’ve got to find some way to tell him, before you end up married to Graham all because we were too fucking chickenshit to face David’s wrath. At this point, I’m almost ready to let him hate me.”

“He won’t hate you, not really.”

“He bloody well might. But nevertheless this secrecy has to end. The longer it goes on the worse telling him will be, plus if Mary Margaret is as determined to find you a man as she seems then we’ll have many more dinners like tonight ahead of us, and I can’t go through another evening like this one, love, I just _can’t_.”

“All right. When do you want to tell him?”

“Tomorrow night, when we get back from sailing. He’ll be at your place then, won’t he?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Killian set his rum glass aside and took her hand, encouraging her up into his lap. She snuggled into him, and he stroked her hip. “This dress is a killer, Swan,” he remarked. “I’ve been thinking about ripping it off of you all evening, in the rare moments when I wasn’t plotting Graham’s murder and the disposal of his body, that is.”

“You should get David to help you dispose of the body, cops know all the best spots.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind, but at the moment I’m much more concerned about what to do with _your_ body.”

“Hmmm, and what are your ideas?”

“Well, right now I’m leaning heavily in favour of laying you down in front of the fire and fucking you until you scream, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.”


	3. The End

Emma and Killian got a later start the next morning than either had intended. After the ordeal of dinner the night before they were both feeling a bit tender and had stayed snuggled up in bed until nearly ten before finally dragging themselves up for a quick shower. Killian threw on jeans and a t-shirt and went to pack their picnic lunch and load up his car while Emma pulled her damp hair into a ponytail and tried to decide whether to wear her bikini underneath her clothes. The forecast called for a warm, sunny day but she knew from experience that it was always colder on the water. After some debate she opted to wear the bikini under a loose-knit sweater that would keep her warm but could easily be removed if she felt like sunbathing, and to bring an extra long-sleeved t-shirt to layer on if she got too cold.

Despite everything she felt light and happy. The prospect of spending the day with the man she loved doing something they both enjoyed helped her forget the looming unpleasantness of the confrontation with David that would come after. She knew Killian was worried about facing her brother. He’d insisted that he be the one to approach David first, hoping to soften him with some reminiscing and pointed remarks about how much happier he’d been since getting together with her, before revealing that the _her_ in question was in fact his best friend’s sister. Then Emma would come in to talk to David about how much she loved Killian and how happy he made her, and make sure he understood that she was the one who’d initiated the escalation of their relationship. She had insisted on the last part, wanting to be sure David fully understood how Killian had held out against the fierce attraction they’d both felt from the moment they met, and had been prepared to do so indefinitely until she’d kissed him.

It would have been easy to allow apprehension to cast a cloud over their day on the sea but Emma decided to take a page from her adoptive mother’s book and stay optimistic, and to do her best to ensure that Killian did as well. David would see how perfect they were together, he _had_ to. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and he loved them both. Happiness and optimism had never come naturally to Emma, despite Ruth’s best efforts, but being with Killian had brought both into her life and she did not intend to lose that, or him, no matter what her brother thought. 

She went into the living room where Killian had left the old-school picnic basket (she could never help pronouncing it pic-in-ic basket, like Yogi Bear, in her head) and was just reaching out to open it and get a look at the contents when a strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and whisked her away.

“Now, now, Swan, no peeking,” admonished Killian in her ear.

“It’s all healthy, isn’t it?” she grumbled.

“Not a single onion ring or bear claw in sight,” he replied cheerfully.

“And what about boiled mackerel?”

“Only for the first course,” he teased. “I promise there are things you like to eat, love, but we simply haven’t time for you to poke around and criticise everything, we’re already running late.”

They were so caught up in each other that neither of them heard the front door, which Killian had left ajar after running some gear to his car, creaking open.

“Well, we’d better head out to the water, then, Captain,” she purred, turning in his arms and running her hands up his chest, pressing kisses along his jaw.

“Hmmm,” he replied, pulling her closer, “Or we could just say sod the whole thing, stay here and fuck all day.” He slid one hand beneath her sweater to tweak her nipple through her bikini top while squeezing her ass with the other, pulling her hips into his. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I like your thinking, but I’d rather go out on the boat and fuck all day.”

“Well, as long as fucking all day remains the main point on the agenda, I suppose the venue is immaterial,” he conceded, leaning in to kiss her. Just before their lips could touch, the front door slammed shut with a force that shook the house.

“WHAT. THE.  _HELL_?!” roared a voice. 

Emma and Killian jumped in surprise, their gazes flying to the doorway where David stood with Mary Margaret behind him. Emma tried to step back but Killian tightened his arms around her, holding her close in a firm grip. He’d be damned if he would go leaping away from her like an errant schoolboy simply because David had caught them in an unmistakably sexual embrace and was reacting just as badly as Killian had feared he would.

Perhaps worse.

David’s face was red, his eyes so wide they looked ready to pop from his head, and Killian would not have been at all surprised to see cartoon clouds of steam emanating from his ears. _It bloody figures,_ he thought in frustration. _The moment we decide to come clean is the moment_ he _decides to walk in on us._ This was exactly what he’d hoped to prevent by speaking to David that evening: this sense of betrayal he must be feeling now, discovering out of nowhere that not only were Killian and Emma together but that they had kept it secret from him. Nothing could have been better designed to push David’s buttons than dishonesty and subterfuge. Killian suppressed a sigh. There was no way now to avoid an angry confrontation, but with a little care he could still attempt to control and possibly salvage the situation, at least enough to protect Emma form the full force of her brother’s wrath.

Taking his eyes from David, he leaned down and kissed Emma’s cheek before removing his hands from her body and stepping back. Deliberately and unhurriedly, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers gently before turning to face her brother. He could feel Emma relax, some of the tension draining from her, and she squeezed his hand. He almost smiled. Whatever was coming they would face it together.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Hello, Dave,” he said, pointedly using the shortened version of his friend’s name, knowing how that irritated him. “Mary Margaret. To what do we owe the honour of your company on this lovely Sunday morning?”

David’s face grew redder, and he seemed to struggle for words. Killian knew he was taking a risk by deliberately stoking the other man’s fury but he also knew that David’s temper burned brightly but quickly; if they could get through the worst of it then there was a chance he could be reasoned with.

He forced himself to be patient as David’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I came by…” he began in a rough voice, then cleared his throat and continued “…because Mary Margaret said it was _obvious_ that something was going on between you and _my sister_ —”

“David, what I said is that they're obviously in love—” Mary Margaret broke in, trying to placate him.

David continued as though she had never spoken. “—and she couldn’t be made to see sense, so I brought her over here to talk to you directly, to get the _truth_ ,” his mouth twisted in disgust, “then I walk in here to find you… you two… like _this_ , you touching my sister… like _that…_ talking about fucking her like it’s a _joke_ …”

Killian’s own anger began to rise, sparked by the mere suggestion that there could be anything low or sordid about his and Emma’s physical relationship, their intense sexual connection that to him held a beauty that was nearly miraculous. The temper curled and roiled in his gut despite his efforts to tamp it down. “That was a private conversation between me and my _girlfriend_ ,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice calm, “who, yes, I have sex with because I love her!”

“Your _girlfriend_?” spat David.

“For the past six months, mate.” _Just rip off the plaster in one go,_ he thought, _that’s the only way now._

“And you expect me to believe that you _love_ her—”

“Aye, because I do.”

“ _You_ , who once said that love was for fools and charlatans—”

“That was years ago—”

“—and that it brings nothing but wasted years and endless torment!”

“—and I should never have said it, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, you meant it!”

“I thought I meant it then, but allow that a man can grow and change his mind!”

“Like you’ll eventually change your mind about Emma?”

“ _Never._ ”

“You say that now—”

“And I’ll say it for the rest of my life.” Killian swallowed hard, anxiety overcoming the anger in his gut. David was more furious than he’d imagined even in his worst nightmares, and for once in his life he couldn’t find the right words to break through that fury, to reach the caring friend and brother who lay underneath. “David,” he tried to reason, “I understand that you’re angry, you have a right to be, we lied to you and it was cowardly of us to do so. But you have to believe that this is not just a dalliance. Emma and I are in love—”

“Hah!”

“We are _in love_ , and this relationship is serious.”

David snorted. “Sure. And I suppose you want to _marry_ her?”

“Indeed I do.”

Emma drew in her breath sharply, and her hold on his hand tightened. “Really?” she asked.

He turned his head to look at her. “Aye, really. I’m all in, love, you know that. I’d marry you tomorrow if you wanted.”

A brilliant smile broke over her face and she turned towards him, her free hand coming up to caress his cheek. “Maybe not tomorrow,” she said softly. “But someday. Definitely someday.”

He looked into her eyes and for a moment David and the argument and the very real chance that he would lose his best friend forever all faded away, and there was only Emma. She was all that mattered. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. She brushed her nose against his, and for several eternal seconds they stood together, breathing each other in and absorbing strength and comfort from their love.

Their interlude was shattered by the sound of David’s voice.

“You really believe I’d let you marry my sister—”

“ _Let_ him?” snapped Emma, pulling away from Killian and facing her brother.

“—after you snuck around with her, hid her away like some dirty secret—”

“I never—”

“David!” hissed Emma. “You do _not_ get to speak of me and my future like that, like I’m not even _here!”_

“I am trying to protect you, Emma!”

Emma stared at her brother like she was seeing him for the first time. “From _Killian?”_ she sputtered in astonishment. “David, he’s your best friend—”

“That’s how I know what he’s like with women!”

Killian bristled. “I have never treated a woman with anything but respect!” he snarled.

“Oh yeah?” retorted David, “And just how many have you _respected_? I bet you don’t even know. You never keep any of them around long enough to remember them—”

“None of them were Emma.”

“—one in every port, isn’t that what they say, then you forget about them the minute you sail away, and my sister just the latest on a very long list!”

Killian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself that as much as David’s words hurt, they came from a place of genuine concern and care for Emma. He knew he didn’t deserve her just as much as David knew it, and yet she still wanted him, even after learning everything about his past, and he wasn’t strong enough to refuse her. “I won’t deny that I’ve known a fair few women,” he conceded, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from his voice, “Many of whom I barely remember, none of whom I cared a whit for. I _can’t_ deny it, when you know most of the lurid details. All I can do is assure you that those days are over, and good riddance to them. Emma is the only woman I want, now or ever again. If she can forgive my past then surely you can too, especially as _her_ opinion is the only one that actually matters on the subject!”

Tendrils of anger were curling through his gut again, so strong he couldn’t quash them. “What’s more,” he choked, “you _know_ why I acted in that way, why I couldn’t get close to anyone. Why I used sex to forget. You _know_ about Milah and what she did…”

Some of the anger faded from David’s expression, and he looked almost contrite.

“I never thought I’d be able to move past it, to get over her. Until I met Emma. So yes, I have in the past behaved in ways I’m not proud of, but I am a changed man now. I want to be better, I _will_ be better, for her.”

“Not for me,” said Emma firmly, stepping closer to him, pressing up against his side. “For yourself. Because you _are_ a good man, one who’s had bad things happen to him and who’s made some bad choices, but still a good man underneath. David knows that, or he wouldn’t have stayed friends with you for more than a decade.” She glared pointedly at her brother. “You deserve to be happy, Killian, and _I_ deserve to be happy with the man _I choose_ to be with _.”_

“And Killian makes you happy?”

“ _Yes_. We’re happy together. You’ve noticed it yourself, David, you said to me just last week that you’d never seen Killian as light as he’s been the past few months, that either the book was going really well or he had a girlfriend.”

“I was _joking_ about the girlfriend.”

“I know, but you were right on both counts. The book _is_ going well and he _does_ have a girlfriend. See how well you know him? Don’t throw away twelve years of friendship over… over…”

“Over the fact that I can’t trust him anymore because he put the moves on my sister behind my back—”

“He didn’t—”

“—and then lied about it?”

Emma was having a hard time processing what she was hearing. Of course she'd known that David was protective of her, he always had been. During her high school years he'd scared off more than one boy, and though she could now appreciate that this had probably been for the best —she'd never had the greatest taste in men, at least not until Killian— and while she really wished he'd been around to warn her about goddamn Neal, she couldn't believe that he would turn on his best friend like this, out of some misguided notion that he wasn't good enough for her. The devastated look on Killian's face, the resignation in his eyes, as if he'd known this was coming and didn't doubt he deserved it, wrenched at her heart, and _infuriated_ her. 

“Killian didn’t ‘put moves on me,’ as you so charmingly put it,  _I_ put them on _him!_ " she snapped. "We wanted each other the minute we met, but he refused to act on it until I literally grabbed him and kissed him. He knew how us being together would upset you —knew it better than I did, by the way, because I cannot _believe_ the way you are acting— and so he didn’t pursue me, even after he knew that what he felt was love. What _we_ felt, because I fell for him just as quickly. We wasted so much time, David, because of you. I refuse to waste a minute more. I am a grown woman who can make her own decisions, and I have decided to spend my life with Killian, out in the open, whether you like it or not. That's how it's going to be, so I suggest you find a way to _fucking deal_." She realised she was shouting and took a deep breath, collecting herself. "Now if you’ll excuse us," she said, in the calmest voice she could muster, "Killian and I are going sailing.”

She grabbed the picnic basket and stormed past David and Mary Margaret, flinging open the door and heading for Killian’s car. Killian hesitated a moment before following.

David grabbed his arm as he went by. His expression was hard, his eyes unforgiving.

“You are my best friend,” he said in a low voice, “And you know that I love you like a brother. You want me to forgive you for lying to me and accept this _relationship_ with Emma for the sake of our friendship, but what are _you_ prepared to do for the sake of it? What if I told you that if you don’t break it off with her, you and I are done forever?”

Killian blanched. “ _Is_ that what you’re telling me?”

“What if it is?” 

Killian suddenly wanted to punch something, or to cry. This was the worst outcome he could have imagined. “Mate." His voice broke. "I’m begging you, _please_ don’t make me choose.”

David's jaw tightened. “Because you’d choose her.” His voice was disbelieving. "You don't even have to _think_ about it."

“She is the love of my life. You know perfectly well how much you mean to me, but I can’t live without Emma.”

David nodded slowly. “So that’s it then?”

_No, please no…_ “It doesn’t have to be!”

“David, think about what you’re doing!” Mary Margaret was aghast.

Killian felt like he was being torn in two; the unthinkable prospect of losing another brother warring with the impossibility of giving up Emma. Jagged flashbacks pierced through his mind, memories of Liam’s death and its aftermath, his devastation and despair. He couldn't survive that a second time.

He gripped David’s arm, his fingers digging into the solid muscle. “Sleep on it,” he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. “Meet me at Granny’s for lunch tomorrow. Please, David.”

David hesitated, clearly struggling with himself. Finally, he nodded. “Tomorrow,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was for this to be a story in three parts, but it refuses to cooperate, so Chapter 4 will be happening. Happy Thanksgiving!


	4. The New Beginning

_Six months later_

Emma opened the cardboard box as quietly as she could, but no amount of stealth could defeat Killian’s Vulcan hearing.

“That had better not be a box of Milk Duds!” he shouted from the living room.

She sighed. “Oh come on, I’m eating for two now.”

“That is precisely the issue darling,” he said, coming into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I won’t have you teaching my child—”

“ _Our_ child.”

“— _our_ child poor eating habits in the womb. At least wait until she’s born for that.”

Emma grinned, knowing he was only half-serious, that if she truly wanted Milk Dud popcorn or any other terrible foodstuff, he would move heaven and earth to obtain it for her. Knowing also that he knew how much she secretly loved his nagging her to eat more healthily.

She leaned back into his embrace. “Still think it’s gonna be a girl, huh?” 

“Oh, aye. A beautiful little girl with her mother’s green eyes.” He caressed her slightly rounded belly as he pictured their daughter in his mind, a mini-Emma that he could shower with all the love that her mother hadn’t known until Ruth and David had come into her life.

“What about a handsome little boy with his father’s blue ones?” inquired Emma, and the image in Killian’s mind shifted.

“Well, I suppose that would be acceptable as well,” he conceded. “After all, a face as devastatingly handsome as mine should be passed on.” He grinned as she huffed in feigned annoyance and elbowed him in the ribs. “Now step away from the chocolate caramels, my love, and let’s put this movie on.”

He took charge of the bowl of popcorn before she could adulterate it with her gooey candy and sat down on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her when she joined him. He couldn’t help remembering a year ago, when they had sat together on a different sofa, trying to focus on a different film as tension and desire simmered between them. The desire was still there —he could never stop wanting her— but it was softer now, more comfortable and far less desperate. His fingertips stroked the bare skin on her arm while hers traced nonsensical patterns on the inside of his thigh. A year ago even such light touches would have set him on fire, burned him alive with frustrated passion. Now the coals of that fire were pleasantly banked, content to glow faintly in the background as they cuddled. He loved that they could happily spend hours curled up together on the sofa wearing flannel, then do filthy things to each other in bed just a few hours later, with just as much enthusiasm as their first time.

 

( _His whole body lit up when her lips touched his, every coherent thought burned from his brain as his animal instincts took over, driving his hands into her hair and his tongue into her mouth before he could stop them. Her moan was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into his bare shoulders the most welcome sensation. He was rock hard in an instant, and when she crawled into his lap, cradling his aching erection against her hot core, he nearly came._

_“Fucking hell, Emma,” he moaned against her mouth._

_Her eyes flew open._

_“Oh my gods,” she cried. “Oh no, oh fuck, I’m so sorry…” She scrambled out of his lap and off the sofa, looking distraught and rumpled and gorgeous. “I shouldn’t have done that, Killian, I know you don’t— it’s just, I— Oh what have I done?”_

_She turned to run but he leapt off the sofa and caught her wrist, pulling her back against him and cupping her cheek in his other hand._

_“Why did you do it, Swan?” he asked, his voice gravelly, his heart pounding so frantically he could barely think. “Why did you kiss me?”_

_She looked up at him, eyes wide and devastated. “I didn’t mean to,” she said, “I just couldn’t stop myself.”_

_“You couldn’t stop yourself,” he repeated, trying desperately to read between the lines of her words, hoping like hell he wasn’t wrong about what they meant. “Why couldn’t you?”_

_“Killian…”_

_“Why couldn’t you, Emma?”_

_She pulled away from him and turned her back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Because I’m in love with you, okay?” she snapped. “Because I’m an idiot and I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages, and then you were there next to me looking so stupid hot and I just couldn’t help—” She broke off as he spun her back around into his arms, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss._

_“I love you too, Emma,” he panted several long minutes later, resting his forehead against hers._

_She was equally breathless. “You do?”_

_“Aye. From the moment we met.”_

_“Oh, Killian, me too.”_

_They kissed again, deep and hard and frantic, and when she took his hand and pulled him towards her bedroom, he didn’t hesitate. Somewhere deep within his consciousness a tiny voice was howling in protest, trying to remind him that this was David’s sister, that there was a reason he’d fought so hard against his feelings for her, that this would bring consequences he might not want to face— but that voice was annihilated by the pounding of his blood through his veins and the heady sensation of all his dreams coming true._

_Her skin was cool silk beneath his fingers as he stroked them up her sides, pulling off her tank top and caressing her pebbled nipples with his thumbs. Her fingers raked through the hair on his chest, down his abs and under the loose waistband of his sweatpants, fisting around his cock, and he hissed out his breath through clenched teeth as his vision went black around the edges. Desperately he tried to tamp down his hunger, the driving need to get inside her so intense he feared if he let it run free he might injure her, but when he made to pull back, to give them some room to breathe, she merely pushed him down onto her bed and pulled off his sweats before shimmying out of her own pyjama bottoms and climbing up to straddle his hips. He gazed up at her, at her rosy-flushed skin and wild hair and wondered if it was possible for a heart to explode with joy._

_“You’re beautiful,” he told her and she smiled, a surprisingly shy smile considering she was stark naked atop him._

_“So are you,” she said._

_“I think you’ll find that’s 'devilishly handsome’ darling,” he growled, flipping her onto her back and lunging for her, trailing his lips down her neck and up to to tips of her breasts as she shrieked and then giggled, arching her back as he sucked on her nipples. Her laughter drifted into a moan and she lifted her hips, rocking them against him, coating his cock in her slick arousal. She was so wet, he thought wildly, so ready. Catching his face in her hands she pulled him off her breasts, forcing him to meet her eyes. Their expression was dazed, their green nearly eclipsed by black._

_“Please, Killian,” she whimpered, “Please…” and he could wait no longer._

_With shaking hands he grasped her hips and thrust inside her, groaning through gritted teeth as her soft, hot cunt enveloped him._

_“Fuck… so good… Emma… gods… so tight… so soft…” The words spilled from his lips, disjointed, and as harsh as Emma’s panting breath in his ear as she thrust up to meet him, matching his frantic rhythm, her fingernails raking bloody trails down his back as her thighs gripped his hips and her heels dug into his ass._

_“I love you,” she moaned, “Love you. So much, Killian. Wanted this forever. Oh gods I’m so close…”_

_“I love_ you _,” he growled in her ear, thrusting harder, grinding his pelvis against her clit. “Now come, my love, come for me, darling…”_

_With a high, keening cry she did as he urged, gasping and trembling as pleasure engulfed her, her inner walls clenching around his cock and sending him tumbling into ecstasy._

_With his last ounce of sanity he managed not to collapse on her with his full weight, instead rolling them until she was cradled against his side, his face buried in her hair._

_They lay entwined until their breathing steadied, then Emma stretched luxuriantly and nuzzled Killian’s neck._

_“That’s never happened to me before,” she purred._

_“What, darling?”_

_“I’ve never come just from, well, from_ that _before.” She gave him a cheeky grin that he could swear he’d felt on his own face. “I always knew you’d be able to live up to that innuendo.”_

_He felt the tips of his ears turning pink, that one spot just below the right one beginning to tingle. “I’m not quite sure how to respond to that,” he said, torn between delight at having thoroughly satisfied the woman he loved and embarrassment at her teasing. She chuckled._

_“No need to say anything,” she replied, her voice sleepy. “Just promise to keep doing it.”_

_He smiled, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead as her eyes fluttered shut. “I think I can promise that, my love,” he said._ )

 

The film she had chosen wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared. The lead actress was charming in her dual role, her fake “British” accent not as cringey as so many were. The plot was silly but engaging. He had to admit that Emma's love for these films had genuinely rubbed off on him. They were undeniably comforting.

There was only one thing that grated on his nerves.

“ _Wembley_ Studios, in _Belgravia_?” he grumbled. “It’s like someone chose these place names by closing his eyes and stabbing a map of London with a pushpin.”

“Wait… there really is a Belgravia?” asked Emma.

“Aye. It’s a very posh neighbourhood in west London.”

“Huh,” said Emma. Her forehead crinkled, and he could almost see the gears turning in her head. “Maybe we could we go there sometime,” she said.

“To Belgravia?”

“To London. To England. You’ve been basically everywhere while I’ve never even been out of the US, and… I’d like to see someplace new. I’d especially love to see where you came from.”

“Well, I definitely didn’t come from Belgravia. But I’d like that too, love, to show you something of my origins. If you’re interested.”

“Of course I’m interested. I’m interested in everything about you,” she replied.

“Well, then, what do you say to New Year’s Day in London?”

“What, this year?”

“Love, by next year we’ll be someone’s mum and dad. Let’s have a last hurrah before we settle down to domesticity for the next fifty years.”

“Well, I can’t hurrah too hard, the rugrat won’t like it.”

“So we’ll both drink club soda and make fun of all the drunk people. What do you say?”

“I say it sounds like a plan.”

Swept up in the excitement of their spur-of-the-moment decision, they spent the next two hours booking flights and AirBnBs and planning things to see and do.

“We’ll have to tell David and Mary Margaret that we’re going,” said Emma when they finally took a break, sipping the hot chocolate she’d wheedled from Killian, with whipped cream _and_ marshmallows since she’d forgone the Milk Duds earlier. ( _‘The rugrat needs sugar, Killian!’ ‘I’m certain that’s the last thing she needs, love. But if you insist…’_ )

“Naturally,” he replied. “I don’t dare keep anything from Dave these days, not even the colour and style of my underpants.”

“What? Ew.”

“Aye, your brother’s opinion of the daily underpants reports is very much along those same lines, but then he did insist on there being no further secrets between us.”

“‘ _Daily underpants reports_ ’?”

“You think I should call them daily _brief_ ings?”

Killian looked so delighted at his ridiculous pun that she couldn’t help laughing. He had the dad jokes down already and their kid was only the size of a lime. He was going to be _great_ at this. “You’re an idiot,” she said fondly.

“Just taking all necessary precautions, love. A good sailor doesn’t tempt the fates. We’ll tell them this evening. One more revelation to add to the pile.”

 

_(Killian arrived at Granny’s early and sat alone in a corner booth, tapping his fingers nervously on the tabletop and watching as the steam from his teacup wove intricate patterns through the air. Granny had brought him the tea without being asked, a sympathetic expression on her face. She couldn’t possibly know why he was there, but he supposed his face must hint at his anxiety and Granny was nothing if not perceptive. David arrived precisely on time, giving Granny a tight smile when requesting his usual drink. He sat down, not meeting Killian’s gaze._

_Tense silence settled heavily between the two old friends, likely for no more than a minute or two, but to Killian it felt endless. He was just on the verge of taking desperate measures, upending his teacup perhaps, or squawking like a chicken, when David finally spoke._

_“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice._

_Killian blinked in astonishment. “_ You’re _sorry?” he spluttered. That was just about the last thing he’d been expecting to hear._

_“Yeah. I’m still fucking pissed that you lied to me, but I’m sorry for the things I said yesterday. I was out of line.”_

_“I’m sorry too, mate,” said Killian. “I hated lying to you. We both did. We should have told you from the beginning, but I just… I couldn’t find the right words.”_

_“_ You _couldn’t find the words? Mister ‘_ mot juste _’ himself?”_

_Killian wanted to laugh with relief, or maybe weep. David taking the piss out of him was a very good sign. He put on his best wry smirk. “To tell my best friend that I’m in love with his sister, no, those are words that I confess even with my considerable talents I struggled to find.”_

_David actually chuckled, then finally looked up to meet his friend’s eyes. “You really love her?”_

_Killian met his gaze unflinchingly. “Very much,” he said quietly. “More than I can express. I fear that my much vaunted wordsmithing skills fail me on this subject as well.”_

_David was silent for another long moment, then he seemed to relax, releasing a long breath and sitting back in the booth. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Killian’s. “You know, when my mom first brought Emma to live with us, she was like a wild animal. She jumped at every loud noise, flinched at every touch. She was so scared, and so wounded, and trying so hard to hide those things behind this facade of toughness, and all I wanted to do was help her. I loved her right away; I knew from that first moment that I would do anything for her. She wouldn’t even let me hug her for months, rejected every single attempt I made to show her love, even though it was obvious that she desperately wanted it. It took the best part of a year, but she finally started to let me in, to trust me, to believe that I really did care about her and would be there for her. And then you know what I did? I left, went off to college. Left her, just like everyone else.”_

_“Mate…”_

_“And even though she still had my mom, who loved her just as much as I did, she took my leaving pretty hard, and she acted out. She was still only fifteen, and had a lot of emotional baggage from her foster homes. Years of feeling worthless and unloved, being abandoned by everyone she dared to care about.”_

_Killian knew all this already, had heard it from Emma herself, but he could sense that David needed to tell the story so he sat and sipped his tea without comment._

_“It seemed like every time I came home she was involved with some new boy,” David continued, “all of them scumbags who treated her like shit. I couldn’t figure out why she always seemed to go for that type when she was so pretty and bright that she could have had anyone. I finally realised that she thought that kind of treatment was what she deserved.” David’s voice dripped with disgust, his face twisted in remembered pain. “I tried to talk to her about it but naturally she wouldn’t listen to reason, didn’t believe me when I told her she could do so much better. I kept those little bastards away from her as much as I could, but I was in Boston, first for college then work, and I couldn’t get home as often as I should have. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I wasn’t there when that asshole Cassidy got her sent to jail.” He paused and ran his hand over his eyes, dashing away the tears that had formed in them. “I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”_

_Killian’s heart ached for his friend. “But you came for her right away,” he pointed out. “You got the charges dropped, got her out. She only spent one night in jail.” David coming to her rescue had meant everything to Emma. It was what had finally convinced her that he would always be there for her, no matter what._ ‘No one ever fought for me before’ _, she’d said._

_“She shouldn't have spent any nights there!” growled David. “That experience, that betrayal from someone she thought loved her, just when she’d started to trust again… it was devastating. It’s the reason she left Storybrooke and got into bail bonds. I hated her doing such a dangerous job, but she told me she needed to do it. She needed to be the one to catch people trying to evade justice, the way Cassidy had done. She caught him eventually, did she ever tell you that?”_

_“Aye.”_

_“I’ve never been so proud in my life as when she hauled that piece of shit in. For skipping bail on a robbery charge, if you can believe it. He framed her for one robbery, then went straight off and committed another. Arrogant prick. She brought him in to the station where I was working in Boston. Her face when she presented him for booking, man, I’ll never forget it. She was like a — what are those warrior women from mythology?”_

_“Amazons? Valkyries?”_

_“That’s the one. She was like a Valkyrie.”_

_Killian could easily imagine that. His Emma was as fierce as they came, and he shared David’s pride in her. It would take a far cleverer man than Neal Cassidy to ever get the better of Emma Swan._

_“After Cassidy, she dated a bit here and there, but mostly she kept to anonymous hookups, one-and-done, no emotional attachment. Better than the scumbags, but only just. Still men who didn’t respect her or treat her as she deserved. It got a bit better when she moved back home, but still you saw the guys she went for here..."_

_"Aye," growled Killian. Not one of them had been fit to lick her boots._

_"When I found out about you two, the way I found out, walking in on you like that, all I could think about was your track record with women —yes, even though I know the reasons behind it, it was still my sister you were touching— and the first thought in my head was to protect her from being fucked around again. Protecting her from her own worst impulses is something I’ve done for half her life, it’s so ingrained it’s almost an involuntary reaction. All I could think was why would you hide it from me? If you really cared about her why would you keep it a secret? It’s not that I don’t respect Emma or trust her judgement, it’s just that she has a long history of bad relationships and I couldn’t stand the idea of her getting hurt again.”_

_“David, you must know I’d never hurt her. Even before we got romantically involved, you knew that I cared about her.”_

_“Of course, but I thought you cared about her as I do, as a brother. I guess it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t have any reason to see Emma that way until Mary Margaret kinda… forcefully… pointed it out to me last night. She’s my sister but that doesn’t make her yours. To me she’ll always be that terrified little girl, at least a bit, and I’ll always want to protect her. But I do know that she’s grown up now, and that she’s strong and tough and beautiful. I get why you’re attracted to her. I don’t like to think about it, but I get it.”)_

 

Emma answered the buzz of the doorbell, flinging open the door and grinning at David and Mary Margaret. They both looked tanned and relaxed, and couldn’t have more obviously just come from two weeks in Hawaii if they’d carried signs announcing it.

She laughed lightly and leaned into Mary Margaret when the other woman immediately pulled her into a hug. MM gave good hugs, she thought contentedly.

David hugged her as well and she leaned into that one too —it _had_ been two weeks since she’d seen him— then did the same to Killian, who returned his hearty embrace enthusiastically and whispered “Boxer briefs. Black.” into his ear before smiling angelically and turning to kiss Mary Margaret on the cheek. David winced.

“ _Please_ stop doing that,” he muttered, but Killian only smiled wider.

“No secrets, remember, Dave,” he said cheerfully. “Your rule.”

“You know I didn’t mean about _everything_ —” David protested to thin air, as Killian had already taken Mary Margaret’s arm and was leading her into the living room. David shot Emma a pleading, desperate look, but she merely shrugged.

“Just be glad he hasn’t worn the ones I got him for his birthday yet,” she said, and David groaned.

“I really do _not_ need to know any of this,” he grumbled. Emma laughed.

“You knew he was annoyingly literal when you told him not to keep anything from you in the future,” she said. “You gotta be more careful with your phrasing.”

“I love how this is somehow my fault,” said David, not _quite_ under his breath, as he followed his sister into the living room where Killian and Mary Margaret were already ensconced on the sofa, deep in conversation over a glass of wine. They got along incredibly well, especially considering that Mary Margaret had once tried to set Emma up with another man. But that misunderstanding had long since been forgiven, along with so many others.

“How was the vacation?” Emma asked David, pouring wine for him and hoping he wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t having any herself.

Her brother’s expression immediately went soft and dreamy. “It was magical,” he replied, drifting off into memories for a moment before shaking off his reverie with a slightly wry grin. “I thought I’d be bored with nothing to do all day but sit on a beach, but… well, we found ways to pass the time.”

“I’ll _bet_ you did,” said Emma, then marvelled at how a year with Killian had opened her up to the point where she was tossing saucy innuendo at her own brother.

“Seriously?” David’s voice rose to a painfully high pitch. “You too?”

Emma just laughed at him again.

“ _Actually_ ,” said David, speaking loudly enough for all to hear and stressing the word. “Speaking of our vacation, Mary Margaret and I have an announcement.”

Killian and Emma exchanged a glance. “Um, we do, too,” she said. “Do you mind if we go first?”

Frankly, she thought, she could easily guess what Mary Margaret and David’s announcement would be, but hers and Killian’s would come as a bit more of a shock.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” said David, and Mary Margaret nodded.

Killian stood, placing his wine glass on a side table and coming to stand beside Emma, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“So, I know we all promised we wouldn’t keep anything from each other any longer, and you know how diligently I have been adhering to that directive,” he began.

“Don’t I just,” muttered David.

“But there is something Emma and I have known for several weeks now, and we haven’t mentioned it because we wanted to be certain there would be no complications. But we saw a doctor last week and all seems to be well, and so we wanted you to be the first to know.”

Emma could tell by their faces that David and Mary Margaret had pretty much guessed what was coming next, so she decided to come right out with it.

“We’re having a baby,” she said.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” shrieked Mary Margaret, leaping from the sofa to pull Emma into another hug, hopping with joy as she did so. “That’s fantastic!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She pulled back, and Emma could see that there were tears in her eyes. “You’re going to be the best mom!”

Emma wasn’t so sure, but she mentally stomped down her fears and smiled. “I’m going to try,” she said.

David was shaking Killian’s hand. “Congratulations,” he said, and the joy in his smile was genuine. “Although I might have preferred if you’d waited until you were married…”

“Ah,” said Killian, scratching nervously behind his ear. “Yes. About that.”

Mary Margaret spun around to face him. “No!” she gasped.

“Well, you see, it turns out Emma actually shares some of Dave’s more _traditional_ views, and she wanted her child to be born into a stable family.”

David caught Emma’s eyes, smiling warmly at her. He understood, she thought, as she’d known he would. It wasn’t that she was traditional, she just wanted to ensure that her baby would have everything that she herself had lacked.

“So last weekend we flew to Vegas and got married,” concluded Killian, and Mary Margaret shrieked again.

“Vegas?” David’s eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “Not very romantic.”

“It actually was romantic,” laughed Emma. “We’ll tell you the story. But also, we thought speed was more important than finesse in this case—”

“ _Only_ in this case, mind,” interrupted Killian, with a smirk.

“And so we’ll have a blessing ceremony with the white dress and the flowers and all that jazz, after the baby’s born.” She looked up at Killian. “Maybe for our first anniversary?”

“That’s a lovely idea, darling.” He smiled, tightening his arm around her.

“Oh, and we’re going to London for New Year’s,” Emma concluded brightly.

“ _What?!_ ”

“So, that’s all our news. What did you want to tell us?”

David’s jaw was hanging ajar as he tried to process everything he’d heard. Mary Margaret laced her arm through his, patting his bicep comfortingly as she replied to Emma’s question. “Well, you’ve pretty effectively stolen our thunder,” she laughed, “but we did want to tell you that we’re engaged.”

“That’s great, you guys!” cried Emma. She might not be surprised by the news, but she was genuinely thrilled. Mary Margaret and David were perfect together. Like her and Killian.

Killian who had tears in his eyes as he clapped David on the back.

“Well done, mate,” he said.

“Thanks,” replied David, “Though I never would’ve guessed that you’d be married before I was.”

“No, nor I.”

“Are you really going to London at New Year’s?

“Aye. Care to join us?”

David looked at his sister’s glowing face and at Killian’s bright smile, and thanked the gods for the millionth time that he hadn’t let his pride get in the way of their happiness. He shook his head. “Maybe next time,” he said. “I don’t think I could handle you two being newlyweds all over each other for that long. Let’s give it a year or two so you can cool off a bit.”

“Well I can’t promise anything to that effect, mate. Your sister is really hot, you know.” At his friend’s scowl, he threw up his hands, his face a picture of innocence. “Hey, just being honest. No secrets, remember? Your rule.”

David groaned.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a request to write their trip to London, and what could be better for January Joy than a New Year's honeymoon to one of my favourite cities in the world? This is a straight-up London tourist brochure, and I'm not even sorry. It's also sweet and fluffy and super short, like candy floss on a shortbread biscuit. Grab a cuppa and enjoy!

London was everything Emma had hoped it would be. Crowded, noisy, grey, dirty, but full of unexpected corners and surprising crannies, quirky and weird and just so ridiculously British. Suddenly she understood Killian a lot better. 

They did all the touristy things: Blocking foot traffic on Westminster Bridge to get a photo of themselves in front of Big Ben, Emma rolling her eyes as Killian explained that the clock tower was just a clock tower and that it was actually the bell that was called Big Ben; taking a tour of Westminster Abbey and dawdling through Poet’s Corner, marvelling at all the famous names commemorated there; dodging the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, Emma barely resisting the desire to pout because she was too old and too pregnant to climb up on the lions’ backs; shopping in Covent Garden; gaping at the Crown Jewels the Tower; taking a million photographs from the top of the London Eye. They walked hand-in-hand along Southbank, grazing from the food trucks there before taking a river taxi to Greenwich where Killian excitedly took Emma thorough the National Maritime Museum and the Old Royal Naval College, only wincing slightly when she lit up in recognition. 

“Oh, yeah, this was in that Thor movie!” she cried, grabbing his arm.

“Indeed,” he replied, with a long-suffering sigh. “Shall we go see the Greenwich Meridian?”

Their trip coincided with the release of Killian’s third novel, which had turned out just as well as Emma had predicted and suddenly launched him from a glowingly-reviewed but lightly-read novelist into a bestselling one. His agent scrambled to take advantage of this surge in popularity by arranging book signings and other appearances in London, waving away his protests that he was “on my bleeding honeymoon, mate,” and aided and abetted by an Emma who was so proud of her husband that she thought she might burst with it, and wanted to show him off. Eventually he agreed, on the condition that he be allowed to choose the bookstores where he did the signings. 

“London has some amazing bookstores,” he told Emma as they lay curled around each other one evening, her head on his chest, his hand caressing her rounded belly. “Bookstores and tea rooms, that’s what I love about this city. There’s no such thing as a decent cup of tea in the States.”

“We dumped it all in Boston harbour that one time,” Emma deadpanned.  

“Bookstores and tea rooms,” continued Killian as though she hadn’t spoken, “And pubs. We should go on a pub crawl.” 

“You know the rugrat won’t let me drink.” 

“You can still enjoy the atmosphere, which is most of the fun anyway. I’ll plan us a route. Through Wapping and along the river, I think, that’s where I used to live and there are some great old places there. We can start at the [Mayflower](https://www.mayflowerpub.co.uk/).” 

“The Mayflower? Like the ship?”

“Exactly like the ship.” 

When they got off the Tube at Rotherhithe, Emma was astounded. With its quiet streets lined with brown brick buildings opening onto the riverfront, it showed another facet of London entirely. Of course she knew from her experience living in New York that large cities were basically a collection of neighbourhoods, each with its own personality and style, yet for some reason the relative peace of this little corner of east London came as a surprise.  

So did the Mayflower pub. 

“This is great!” Emma exclaimed, taking in the view of the river from the small wooden balcony at the back of the upstairs room. “Are all pubs like this?”

“Not in the least,” smiled Killian. “Many of them are dank shitholes, if we’re honest. But the good ones can be amazing.” 

After the Mayflower, they took the Overground train across the Thames to Wapping, walking hand-in-hand through more brown brick streets to [Turner’s Old Sta](https://www.turnersoldstar.co.uk/)r, with its spacious and charming outdoor beer garden, then on to the [Town of Ramsgate](http://townoframsgate.pub/), another riverside establishment with a stunning outdoor deck and riverside view. From there they walked along the riverfront path to the [Prospect of Whitby](https://www.greeneking-pubs.co.uk/pubs/greater-london/prospect-of-whitby/), Emma’s favourite pub yet. She found its dim, dark wood and flagstone interior charmingly quaint, and its iteration of the now familiar outdoor deck with sweeping view of the river enhanced by the addition of a gibbet and noose. 

“Used for hanging pirates,” said Killian, gesturing with his pint. 

“Really?”

“Aye, primarily, though there were others. In the case of the pirates, legend says the bodies were left there to hang until three tides had washed over their heads.” 

“Damn.” 

“The hazards of a pirate’s life, darling.” 

They ended their day by taking a taxi to Limehouse and [The Grapes](https://thegrapes.co.uk/menus.php) pub, where they ate fish and chips then as they were leaving shook the hand of Sir Ian McKellen, who co-owned the place. 

“I can’t believe we met Gandalf,” gushed Emma as they cuddled in the taxi on their way back to their AirBnB in Belgravia. 

“What honeymoon would be complete without it?” joked Killian. 

“Today was really fun,” said Emma. “I loved all the pubs, I can see why you miss them living in Storybrooke.” 

“Storybrooke has other attractions,” said Killian, smiling at her, his eyes warm with love. “London’s great but it’s not my home, not anymore. My home is wherever you are.” 

New Year’s Eve found Emma and Killian dressed to the nines and mingling with London’s literati on the opulent balcony of the Royal Penthouse of the Corinthia Hotel, on the north bank of the Thames. It was pretty much the last place Emma would have predicted she’d be if she’d been asked a few weeks ago about her New Year’s plans, but she wasn’t about to argue. The penthouse was taken every year by the London branch of Killian’s publisher for the New Year’s Eve party they threw for their top authors, and the fact that they thought highly enough of Killian’s new book to invite him to the party that year made her proud enough to burst. Or cry. But that could just be the pregnancy hormones. 

Killian’s agent, a nervous, bustling little man called Smee, shared her pride, though his seemed to be focused slightly more on his own foresight in backing Killian through the less-than-stellar sales of his first two books and the vindication of his third one’s bestselling status. 

“I always knew you’d hit on the right formula eventually,” he blustered as Killian smiled indulgently and Emma ground her teeth, wishing the little man would stop patting himself on the back and let her enjoy the New Year countdown and fireworks with her husband. “It’s not easy to find that delicate balance between artistry and popular appeal, but I always knew that with a little encouragement you could— is that Ben Aaronovich? I’ll be right back.” He thrust his empty champagne glass into Emma’s hand and hurried off in pursuit of the author of the popular _Rivers of London_ book series. 

“Ugh,” said Emma, turning to deposit the glass on the tray of a passing waiter and resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her dress. “He’s a bit of a rat, isn’t he?”

“Aye, that he is. But he truly did stick by me for a number of years, so I’m prepared to overlook it. That said, I think we should disappear before he comes back.” Killian grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her away into the crowd. 

The Royal Penthouse’s balcony offered a sweeping view of the Thames, similar to the ones they’d seen at the pubs but considerably swankier, and neither Emma nor Killian could imagine a better place to stand for the countdown and fireworks display. As the London Eye lit up and the assembled crowds below began to chant the descending numbers, Killian wrapped his arms around his wife, resting his chin on her shoulder and entwining their fingers together over the swell of their child growing inside her. When the last number was called and the noise of cheers and fireworks erupted around them, he turned his head and kissed her, tasting the sharp bite of the club soda and lime she’d been drinking mixed with the familiar precious flavour that was uniquely her. He thought about all they had to look forward to: the birth of their baby, his burgeoning career, settling in to their married life together, and felt such a surge of happiness and contentment that it brought tears to his eyes. 

“Happy New Year, my love,” he murmured against her lips, feeling her answering smile before he kissed her again. “I have a feeling it’s going to be our best one yet.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some friends and I did this pub crawl a few years ago and I *highly* recommend it.


End file.
